Into The Fire
by Lunadragon88
Summary: While Harry deals with Ministry bureaucracy in an effort to have Snape’s portrait hung in the Headmaster’s office, he has a chance encounter with Draco Malfoy that affects their relationship, and Harry’s understanding of himself, forever. H/D. HDSBeltane0


* * *

**Into the Fire**

"What do you mean you won't hang it? He was a Hogwarts Headmaster!" Harry shouted, before catching himself and looking around, hoping no one else had witnessed his loss of temper.

"Be that as it may, Mr. Potter," said the ubiquitously annoying, faceless Ministry official, "his tenure was under rather unusual circumstances during wartime, and therefore is not subject to the regular laws that govern Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Harry groaned at the sheer absurdness of the situation. He had been arguing with five different Ministry officials, all of whom refused to put him in contact with the Hogwarts Board of Governors so that he could put forth his request. Which really, when all was said and done, was less of a request and more of a demand, and one that he shouldn't even have to make to begin with as the matter should have been taken care of months ago.

Oh, bugger, that infernal woman was still speaking. He'd better pay attention.

"--As such, we feel that we are in our rights to respect the wishes of the Wizarding community and the parents of no doubt still traumatized children who had to suffer under Mr. Snape's tyranny of the school--"

"That is not true!"

"Were you present during his tenure as Headmaster?"

"Well, no but--"

"Are you a trained Mediwizard with a background in psychological treatment?"

"No, but--"

"Have you studied the intimate details of a child's mind in order to better provide for their education, treatment, and growth as individuals capable of handling whatever this cruel world might force upon them?"

"_No_," Harry ground out, extremely angry by this point. "_However_--"

"Then I fail to see what permits you to make judgments on behalf of the children attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," the witch said pompously, before looking down at her paperwork in a decidedly dismissive gesture.

Harry let out a puff of air, unable to believe anyone could be so exasperating. Well, actually, that wasn't right. He could remember one person being that exasperating, but he hadn't seen him in--

"I refuse to accept that you cannot get me what I want. Do you have any idea who I am?"

Harry whirled around, staring in disbelief at the blond not 15 feet away who was conversing with another Ministry representative. _Malfoy. _

"Yes, I do sonny, and you best be glad that I'm not letting my personal opinion of your rotten family affect my--impartial judgment of your complaint," the man growled.

Malfoy's eyes widened and he stiffened a bit, before a relaxed smirk affixed itself on his face.

"Where are you from, exactly?" he said, his tone almost bored.

"Texas," the man answered, looking suspicious. "Why?"

"And you've been living in London for how long?"

"Coming on six months. Why?"

"So you missed the war," Malfoy clarified.

"Yes. _Why?"_

"If you missed the war, then you just got the tail end of the gossip about my family. You missed the articles that detailed the tortures and deaths carried out in the Dark Lord's name. You missed the Death Eater trials for those who were still alive after the battle at Hogwarts. And you missed the_exquisite_ details of all the atrocities I committed and managed to excuse away with barely a blink."

The Ministry official's pallor was increasing as he listened to Malfoy's voice silkily imply all manner of things that might end unpleasantly for him. Harry found himself inexplicably having an entirely different reaction to the subtle threats lingering in the Slytherin's words.

Malfoy was the answer to his problem. He had been Snape's godson, surely he would want the man to be properly respected and remembered. And hadn't his father, scumbag that he was, been on the Board of Governors? Malfoy would know exactly whom to speak to and just whom to leverage in order to hang the portrait. Harry could just chat Malfoy up, casually mention the Snape issue, and everything would work out. It was perfect.

Harry continued to watch as the man quaked under Malfoy's glare and inevitably handed over the files that Malfoy had wanted. All the while he was suddenly more aware of the cut of Malfoy's robes, how they swayed with his movements, lingered over certain body parts, fluttered as he turned around to face Harry…

"Potter?"

Harry wrenched his eyes up to Malfoy's face as the man walked toward him, taking in the surprised expression there. "Hello, Malfoy."

"What are you doing here?" The surprise was gone, but there was only a slight trace of indignation covering dislike.

Harry nodded back to the woman behind him, currently arguing with another person requesting the Ministry's assistance.

"Just being ignored and rejected, as usual. I see you had a bit more luck." He was pleasantly surprised to see the faintest tint of pink rise on Malfoy's cheeks.

"Yes, well, sometimes it takes a bit of Slytherin maneuvering to outwit a Hufflepuff's stubborn insistence on rules, no matter how stupid and inane those rules may be."

"Malfoy, we're not at Hogwarts anymore," Harry said, almost laughing. "Besides, that man was American. He couldn't be a Hufflepuff."

"Maybe he wasn't Sorted, no, but I sensed his innate stupidity and followed the natural conclusion toward Hufflepuff, American or not," Malfoy said airily.

Despite his attempt to cage them, Harry's laughs burst forth into a merry ringing that filled the hallway. "I don't remember you being this funny."

Malfoy stiffened and a look crossed his face. It was as if he had suddenly remembered himself after being far away from home for a time. "No, I wouldn't expect you to. Good day, Potter," he said, nodding swiftly and turning away toward the Floo hubs down the corridor.

_Aw, crap _Harry thought.

"Malfoy, wait!" he called, hastening to catch up with the ill-tempered blond. "I didn't mean it as an insult!"

Ahead of him, Malfoy was grabbing a handful of Floo powder and tossing it into the fireplace. Harry quickened his pace, confident that he would be able to reach Malfoy before he disappeared into the flames. He did reach him; just not how he expected.

His forward movement accidentally propelled him into the Slytherin just as the powder was thrown down and "Malfoy Manor" was called into the smoke, Malfoy's breath creating swirling eddies in the rising fumes. The sweltering heat assaulted Harry's senses and tore into his lungs as he accidentally inhaled particles of dust, his arms desperately clutching his companion even as the violence of their travel scraped his knuckles across brick and mortar. He could feel Malfoy struggling within his arms, pinching and prying at him so that he might let go, but Harry clung furiously to the other man, unwilling to be dumped in a random fireplace somewhere in Britain. Malfoy's struggles became more insistent and Harry had a split second of indecision before his mind was made up for him as they seemed to pass through a slimy barrier and the pain started. It flowed through every surface of his body and crept into bone and sinew in a breathless articulation of the worst of _Crucio. _Harry cried out unwillingly, feeling more smoke filter through his lungs. He finally released his hold on Malfoy.

And then everything was a raging, fiery black as he tumbled into oblivion.

* * *

He woke in a haze, broken patches of blackness sliding across his vision. He blinked rapidly, trying to get them to disperse, but as one sense returned he found awareness in all others and soon resented consciousness altogether. Pain rippled along his spine, blossoming to more concentrated bursts of agony around his right shoulder. His hands felt numb. He had the vague sensation that someone was bending over him, softly and slowly muttering to himself in a low, calming voice. A ghostly presence brushed along the crown of his sweat-slicked head, sweeping damp locks away from his face. The scent of burning pine wood assaulted his nostrils, with a minty dust that he associated with Snape's Potions classroom woven in.

And then there was the screaming to his left. Quite a lot of screaming, actually. The louder voice was a woman's, whom he thought must be Ginny. He'd experienced enough spats between her and Ron, not to mention between her and himself, to imprint her "angry voice" into his head permanently. The male's voice was softer, but no less frigid. He couldn't place it, though it seemed intimately familiar to him.

"--possibly been thinking? Who the bloody hell keeps those kinds of wards on their fireplace?"

"Someone with the means to take care of their family at all costs. Not that you would know anything about--"

"I know how to protect my family, you disgusting pile of pretentious shit!"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist just because your boyfriend was stupid enough to--"

"He's not my boyfriend, but I'm actually capable of having feelings for other people. It's called being friends! Not that you would know anything about feelings you loud-mouthed, two-faced, back-brained _Slytherin!_"

"Madam, please!" said the voice closest to him. He could feel the body turn slightly away in order to address the other side of the room. "You are being very loud and disruptive, and I would appreciate it if I could further my diagnosis with the patient's help now that he is conscious."

His vision rapidly returning, Harry managed to glimpse the chastised look on Ginny's face as she fell silent and the grim look on Malfoy's before the body dressed in the garish robes of a St. Mungo's Mediwizard obscured his vision.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. How are you feeling?"

Harry looked up into the warm, brown eyes of the man's concerned face and couldn't help but feel a bit comforted, despite the pain. Unfortunately, when he tried to vocalize this his throat put up a vehement protest, rasping ineffectively and then forcing him to cough, which sent more pain through out his limbs. The Mediwizard must have gathered enough from his face, however, for a numbing spell was immediately cast, and a healing potion of some kind poured down his throat.

"Now, don't try to speak. I don't want you to move your head either, it might damage your spine further. My name is Damian Feverbright, and I'm a trained Mediwizard from St. Mungo's Hospital. I'm going to ask you a series of questions, Mr. Potter, and I want you to answer with one blink for yes, and two blinks for no, alright? Do you understand?" the Mediwizard asked.

Harry blinked once. _Yes._

"Very good. Now, I've cast a few spells to help with the pain, but are you still feeling any discomfort?"

_No._

"Good. Can you remember where it hurt the most before?"

_Yes. _

"You're spine, right?"

_Yes. _

"And your right shoulder?"

_Yes. _

"Anywhere else?"

_No. _

"That's very good. I'm just going to confer with your friends for a few moments now concerning your care for the next few days. You're lucky that the damage was not severe enough to require immediate transfer to a ward at St. Mungo's, but nonetheless you need to remain immobile during your recovery to avoid further injury. Barring any further complications, you should be up on your feet in no time!" The man smiled at Harry and then turned to Malfoy, engaging him in rapid fire conversation.

Harry gulped a sigh of relief. He was going to be fine, even though he apparently had to stick around Malfoy Manor for a few days. On second thought, maybe he wasn't going to be doing so well after a few days of that.

As Malfoy continued speaking with Feverbright, Ginny made her way over to Harry's side. She was very pale, the freckles scattered across her nose more prominent than usual, her eyes rimmed with angry tears. "Hi, Harry," she said softly. "How are you feeling?"

Harry stared back at her.

"Right, stupid question. You can't really answer me anyways." Ginny touched her fingertips to his head, softly brushing against his hairline. "I suppose you don't really remember very much of what happened?"

Harry blinked twice. _No. _

"Malfoy said you followed him into the Floo connection as he was leaving the Ministry. He was headed towards Malfoy Manor and--Harry you know how heavily warded this place is! Bloody paranoid if you ask me, but, anyways…the wards banged you around a bit, especially since you were holding on to Malfoy. He said that he tried to get you to let go, but it took a while, and that's why your spine…it doesn't matter. You'll be right as rain in no time, the Mediwizard said so. We just have to give you this potion every four hours so the nerves in your back…can…can," Ginny let out an involuntary sob. "Bloody hell, I'm so--sorry. I don't mean to--I'm sorry, I--"

"Weasley."

Harry and Ginny both looked toward Malfoy. Mediwizard Feverbright had gone and the three of them were now alone in the room. "Perhaps it would be best," Malfoy said tactfully, "if you let me take care of Potter until you can collect yourself."

Ginny's eyes hardened at once. "If you think I'm going to leave him all alone with you--"

Harry gave a small noise to attract her attention, ignoring the pain even that movement caused him. Ginny returned her gaze to him and immediately blanched. "But Harry I--" she stopped as his eyes closed.

He opened them again to look at her. She stared back at him, not acknowledging Malfoy's soft words. "I insist."

Ginny continued to look at Harry and then finally nodded once, sharply. "Very well. I'll come back tomorrow. In any case, Mum will want an update on what's happening, and I should owl Ron and Hermione to tell them to come back from Romania. I'm sure Charlie won't mind them cutting their visit short under the circumstances." She stopped again at the look on Harry's face. "But Harry you know they would want to….fine!" Ginny threw her hands up into the air. "Fine, I won't owl them! But if you don't get better in three days then I'm bloody Firecalling them and insisting they return at once."

Harry blinked in acquiescence. Ginny smiled tearfully at him and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. She rounded on Malfoy. "If anything happens to him while he's in your care they won't be able to find all the pieces of you to put you back together by the time I'm through, Malfoy."

Malfoy said nothing. As if she was insulted by his silence, Ginny huffed hotly and strode over to the fireplace, calling out "The Burrow!" as she threw down a fistful of Floo powder. As soon as she was gone, Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Was that her attempt at terrifying?" he said, addressing no one in particular. He turned his attention to Harry.

"Alright there, Potter?"

Harry blinked once. _Yes. _

"Great. Then let me be the first to congratulate you on your complete and utter stupidity," he said flatly. "Do you know what a total idiot you are for grabbing on to someone in the middle of the Floo network? Especially someone who has a less than reputable background concerning Dark Arts and has no qualms properly defending his home against intrusion? You're in the Auror Department, Potter, you know all about wards and their defenses! What kind of wizard are you?!"

Unable to speak, Harry simply glared.

Malfoy laughed abruptly. "I suppose you'd like to yell back at me, wouldn't you?"

Harry blinked furiously.

"Well, I brewed you something that might help. I'll be right back."

Malfoy left the room. Harry watched him go, an uncertain feeling flowing through him at seeing the blond walk away. With Malfoy's absence, Harry took the opportunity to study his surroundings, or at least what he could see without moving his head. The room was tastefully done, not at all the ostentatious exhibit of wealth that he had imagined. When they were not covered with shelf after shelf of books or the large stone fireplace across from the doorway, the walls were paneled with a deep mahogany that rose up to the equally embellished ceiling where two small chandeliers gave light to the room. Thick, dark blue carpeting covered the floors, a glossy black grand piano in the center. A supple chocolate brown leather couch and matching armchairs took up the rest of the room, with an ornately carved table in between. Harry himself was lying on a window seat, one of three that sat beneath some of the largest windows he'd ever seen. From his peripheral vision he could see the rough outline of the grounds which, when properly cared for, he was sure were a sight to behold.

Harry's musings were interrupted by Malfoy's return.

"Here we are," he said, holding up a vial of glistening purple potion. "I've been working on a potion to let mute people communicate without having to write the words in the air with their wands. It will separate out the thoughts you wish to form into coherent speech from the rest of your mind, and then produce the words in the air for you. I've yet to try it on a subject with damaged lungs and larynx. I can't guarantee that it will work, but there's nothing inherently harmful in the materials and I haven't seen any adverse side effects so far. Are you willing to try it?"

Harry stared at Malfoy, a hard look on his face. Malfoy stared back, and then a look of comprehension entered his eyes. "You think I'm going to poison you, don't you!" Malfoy laughed, grey eyes almost twinkling. "I think it'd be a bit obvious if you suddenly worsened while in my care, and then traces of an unknown potion were found in your bloodstream. Give the Slytherin a little credit here. If I wanted to kill you, I could easily have instructed the wards to do so when you first grabbed onto me. As it is, I don't think I'd get very far before the entire redhead population in Britain came after me."

Harry smiled in spite of himself.

"Is that a yes?" Malfoy asked. He didn't wait for an answer, uncorking the vial and putting it to Harry's lips. Harry felt the cool liquid slip into his mouth and down his throat, aided by Malfoy's fingers rubbing gently down his neck.

"How's that?"

Harry coughed a bit, wincing at the pain. Once he managed to forget about his throat, he took a physical catalogue of his body and what exactly he was feeling. Other than the continued numbness along his spine and shoulder, all he felt was a queasy stomach. He turned his eyes to Malfoy, trying to figure out a way to let him know that it hadn't worked, when he noticed the shimmering letters hanging in the air about three feet to the right of him.

_I don't think it worked. _

"As usual, Potter, I'm going to have to disagree," Malfoy smirked.

* * *

"Are you hungry?"

It had been several hours and Malfoy had come and gone in increments under the guise of varying tasks: propping Harry up with pillows, placing a book in his lap that was spelled to turn the page every few minutes, making sure the pain hadn't returned. Harry was surprised that Malfoy was doing it himself; surely there were house-elves to do such tasks for him. Yet here he was again, asking another question in order to help Harry. He couldn't understand the motivation behind it. Was it guilt? Fear of the public reaction to any damage done to their hero? It surely couldn't be because he actually liked Harry, that much was obvious as always.

"Potter?" Malfoy waved a hand in front of Harry's face. "I asked you a question. I have to give you another dose of your potion now and it's better if you take it with food. So are you hungry?"

_Yes, thank you. _

"Great. I'd rather not move you, so the house-elves have been instructed to bring your meal in here. Nappy!" Malfoy called.

Immediately a house-elf popped into existence by his side, bowing low and setting a tray of steaming food on the table before leaving just as quietly.

"Let's sit you up properly. The potion and spells cast should protect your back against small movements." Malfoy grasped Harry, one arm supporting his head and the other around his waist, and set him up in a more upright position against the pillows. Harry ignored the feeling of the other man's arms around him, burning through his clothing, and how close Malfoy's face was to his when those grey eyes looked up and he asked, "Does that feel alright?"

_I'm fine. _

Malfoy stepped away and over to the tray of food. "So, potion first, and then the food. Your throat does only hurt when you try to speak, right?"

_Yeah. _

"So normal food won't be a problem. I had Nappy bring up some soup and some mashed up yams with brown sugar, just in case. But I can get her to bring something else, if you prefer?"

_No, that sounds great. _

Harry watched Malfoy fiddle around with the various dishes on the table, and then take the vial of potion the Mediwizard had left behind and pour three drops into a glass of pumpkin juice. "Here." He pressed the glass to Harry's lips and didn't remove it until Harry had drunk the entire thing. Malfoy went back to the table, Harry watching with growing confusion the whole way.

"The soup first, I think." Malfoy picked up the bowl and a large spoon and made his way back to Harry. "It's much better when it hasn't had a chance to cool down yet." He ladled some into the spoon and took a sip. "Mhhmm, yes. It's perfect--what?"

Harry had pressed his lips together in refusal. _Why are you doing this? _materialized in the air beside him.

"To avoid the sure fallout that would occur if I murdered the Boy Who Lived and Defeater of the Dark Lord while he was under my care. Surely you can understand simple politics, Potter," Malfoy said, waving the spoon nonchalantly in the air before ladling more soup and pressing it against Harry's lips. Harry once again didn't open them.

_That doesn't explain why you're being so nice to me. You hate me. You could get your house-elf to do everything and just ignore me. Why are you doing this?_

Malfoy gave a little sigh and set down the soup. He looked down into his lap and was silent for several long moments. Harry almost thought he wasn't going to answer when Malfoy spoke. "Because maybe this last year has changed me more than the previous seven. Because maybe every once and a while I think about what happened between us in school and during the war, and some unknown feeling plummets into my stomach. And maybe because I think it's my fault that you're hurt in the first place." He looked Harry in the eye. "You weren't being rude earlier, Potter. I was. And I should have stopped when you asked me to. I'm sorry." He picked up the soup and spooned a little into Harry's mouth. This time Harry didn't object.

He continued feeding Harry in silence, first the soup and then the yams. When it was all gone Malfoy got up and placed everything back on the tray, which vanished with a wave of his wand. "I'll leave you to your thoughts," he said politely, heading toward the door. As he left he mumbled some words under his breath. Harry had to strain to hear him, and it was only after the footsteps had finished echoing down the corridor that he fully realized what Malfoy had said, though the meaning still escaped him.

"I knew you would come after me. You always do."

* * *

Three days had passed, and Harry's voice was back. The potion had done wonders, healing his shoulder and his spine. He could walk now, though he did so slowly, not wanting to accidentally injure himself. There wasn't much he could do physically anyhow as he had kept to the room Malfoy had placed him in, reading books and researching with materials that Malfoy brought him from the library. He knew that if he could just find it, there would be a law or edict stating that each Headmaster was to be commemorated with a portrait in honor of his tenure, no matter how short or how absurd the political situation was at the time.

Things between him and Malfoy were…odd, to say the least. They had had one heated discussion concerning Snape, another about the Ministry, and then a third about the best course of action to take in order to secure Snape's portrait. Harry chuckled at the memory of that final talk.

"_It's a perfectly simple matter. Every Hogwarts Headmaster has a portrait made of them that is then hung in their office once they have either retired or passed on. Snape was a Hogwarts Headmaster. Therefore, he should have his portrait hung in the office. There--syllogism explained. The problem is that the Ministry has a giant broomstick up its ass and refuses to hand over the portrait for hanging."_

"_Why didn't you say all this before?" Malfoy demanded. "Here you've been, sitting there and reading some useless book that I placed into your lap at random, and the entire Malfoy library is not fifty feet away waiting for you to use it! I can't even begin to count the number of texts we have on the Ministry law's, current and previous. Plus, I have some old documents concerning Hogwarts that my father--acquired--while he was on the Board of Governors. We'll just research the libraries to get information on how to get the portrait hung: whom to blackmail, any laws to over turn or loopholes to be found, that sort of thing."_

"_Malfoy," Harry said sharply. "I didn't ask for your help so that I could flout my disrespect of the Ministry to every wizard in Britain."_

"_No, but don't pretend that you do respect them, Potter, or that you were ever one for following the rules. I think we both know that isn't true."_

"_Would you stop being such a bastard?"_

"_I assure you, my parents were married when they had me."_

_They stared at each other, neither one backing down. After a few seconds Malfoy's mouth twitched. Harry's mirrored the gesture. At the exact same moment they burst into peals of laughter, Harry holding on to his ribs in an effort not to shake up his spine too much. He carefully avoided meeting Malfoy's gaze for the next half hour, certain that if he did he would dissolve into another fit of inexplicable laughter. _

Yes, things were definitely interesting. And it was rather…nice, Harry thought. Surprisingly nice. Even more surprising was that when Ginny came to visit and bring him well wishes from the rest of his friends, though he was happy to see her he was disappointed at the interruption. Disappointed to see Malfoy leave the room to give them privacy. Disappointed that the hand that reached out to help him sit up or pass him a book was small and freckled instead of the long-fingered pale hands he had watched flick through thin pages or skim across the black and white keys of the piano.

Just like he was doing now. Malfoy insisted the music was essential to a patient's recovery and that his mother, who had taught him to play, had always played for him when he was sick as a child. His fingers rode across the keys, picking out a melody to a song Harry didn't recognize, but he didn't think that mattered. It sounded wonderful, soothing, and though he tried to concentrate his eyes kept leaving the words of the page and watched Malfoy instead.

He looked down at the book again, trying to make sense of the words even as he was trying to make sense of himself. He glanced up again to see Malfoy smirking at him from the piano, still playing but eyes on Harry instead of the keys.

"What?" Harry asked.

"You're the one staring at me and you get to ask the question? That's not very fair."

"I wasn't--"

"No, of course not. My imagination playing tricks on me," Malfoy said, smirk still in place.

"Since when do Slytherins care about fairness?" Harry asked, disgruntled.

"When it serves in their self-interest, of course."

Harry let out a snort and then looked down at the book, flipping to a random page. He refused to look up, trying to hide the blush he was sure was making its way across his face as he felt grey eyes still studying him. He looked down and read the first sentence of the fifth paragraph. And then the second sentence. And the third. And--

"That's it," he breathed.

"Find something?" Malfoy asked, stopping his playing to look over Harry's shoulder.

"I think I have. Look, right there! Is that what I think it is?"

Malfoy leaned closer, his longer hair brushing lightly against Harry's cheek as he read the part Harry pointed to. Harry shivered slightly, thinking the room was cooler than normal. Malfoy was leaning so close that his breath felt hot as he exhaled and mouthed the words while reading them. Suddenly he let out a burst of laughter, standing up fully as Harry jumped at the abrupt noise.

"You did it! This is it! Damn the Ministry to hell, they can't argue against their own edicts," Malfoy said gleefully, energy rolling off him in waves as he danced like a maniac around the room, flicking his wand at the piano so that it played a resounding tune. "Severus will get his recognition at last."

Harry watched, seeing a side of Malfoy he never knew existed. The man was as giddy as a child in the early morning, muttering excitedly to himself as he quickly copied the necessary notations with a wave of the wand. Harry felt a bubbling in his chest, an urge to laugh and a joy so necessary that he had never realized it could be possible. It took him a moment to realize that Malfoy was addressing him.

"Would you care to dance?"

"What?"

Malfoy didn't repeat the question. He simply walked over to Harry and began to pull him toward the center of the room.

"Malfoy, I--"

"Think of it as celebratory therapy."

"I--I'm barely walking, I--" Harry tried to protest.

"You don't need to walk. You just need to turn."

And then Harry had no more time to protest for Malfoy had seized hold of his waist with one hand and grabbed Harry's own hand with the other, and they were spinning very slowly around the room, waltzing in half-time to the piano. He shut his eyes, feeling a bit dizzy as the paneled wood kept rotating behind Malfoy's head.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, why?" Harry replied.

"You shut your eyes," Malfoy chuckled.

"Dizzy," he said shortly.

"Ah. Just relax. Listen to the music, and don't think."

Harry focused on the piano and slowly did begin to relax, moving closer as the first few of his fumblings were smoothed over by Malfoy's poise. He had always noticed that Malfoy stood ramrod straight and his hands always gestured fluidly when he talked, but Harry had never quite noticed how graceful he was before. And it came in handy when one was born with two left feet. Their bodies started to move faster, Harry becoming accustomed to the time of the music. Any slip he made was gently corrected by Malfoy's hand on his waist, and he began to lean back into the turns. He dimly recalled Hermione stating once that waltzing required trust in one's partner, because in order to complete the fast turns both the man and woman had to rely on the strength of the other to hold their position against the outward spinning force. It was revolutionary at the time it was introduced because the dance placed equal weight on the talents and strength of both partners, instead of just the man…or something like that. It didn't matter, because Harry was moving again and he could feel the soft carpet between his toes and Malfoy's hand against his and on his waist and the few strands of hair that were brushing against his face and the soft puffs of hot breath that tickled his cheek and he decided maybe he wasn't as dizzy as he thought so he opened his eyes and looked up and there was Malfoy's face and his large grey eyes staring down into Harry's and…and…

A pop to his right announced the house-elf's presence. "Sorry to be interrupting, sir, but there are a Mr. Weasley and a Ms. Granger at the door, sir, and they refuse to leave," Nappy said, bowing low.

"Thank you," Malfoy dismissed the elf, eyes never straying from Harry's face. "I guess we should meet your friends."

He turned and walked toward the front door, moving slowly so that Harry could keep up, though Harry figured if he could waltz a few times around the room it certainly meant that he could walk down a corridor into the foyer. They reached the entrance where Ron and Hermione were waiting anxiously, practically still on the threshold of the home. Ron was eyeing every wall and column as if they contained Dark magic about to attack him at any moment, and Hermione looked as if she were trying to crane her head around backwards in her attempts to take in everything at once. As Harry had discovered, the Manor looked quite a bit different when one wasn't in the middle of a war and seized with fear for one's own mortality. They both turned as Harry walked in, rushing forward in a flurry of sound.

"Mate, are you alright? Ginny told us--"

"Harry, you look awful! Has Malfoy been feeding you--"

"--I couldn't bloody believe she left you alone with this slimy--"

"--let me feel your head. Is your back feeling better? What did the Mediwizard use to--"

"Enough!" Harry yelled over them. "I'm fine!"

They stared at him, shocked, and he suddenly felt guilty for the outburst. He was also conscious of Malfoy's gaze on his back, the blond completely silent as he watched the proceedings.

"Really, I'm fine. Feverbright gave me a potion to take regularly and I've been doing so. I'm eating plenty and Malfoy's been making me walk around and move a bit."

"Not too much I hope?" Hermione asked. "You haven't strained yourself, have you?"

"No, I--"

"Look here, Ferret-face, you're just lucky that Harry's still in one piece and I've only just got back now or else I'd have--" Ron started.

"You'd have what, Weasley? Cried to your girlfriend until she gave you back your bollocks or did the job for you?" Malfoy sneered.

"You little--"

"Stop!" Harry shouted again. "Please! I just…" Harry took off his glasses and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyelids. "Could you please just…could I just…can we just go? Let's go. I'd really like to go now." He placed his glasses back on. "Malfoy, thank you for hospitality these past few days and your help on that certain matter. Ron, Hermione, let's just go."

"But Harry--"

"Are you sure I can't just--"

"No," Harry said firmly. "It would be best if we just go."

Malfoy said nothing, simply nodded his head and opened the door for the three of them as they walked out of the house.

"The Apparition point's just ahead. I can't believe you spent the last few days with him," Hermione whispered rather loudly.

"I know! I mean, blimey Harry!" Ron said, not bothering at all to lower his voice as they walked. "Couldn't you have picked a better time to get taken in by that bastard?"

Harry looked back and saw Malfoy standing in the doorway watching them leave, an unreadable half smile on his face. Harry felt the corners of his own mouth turn up. He turned back to his friends, placing an arm companionably around Ron's neck.

"I don't know, Ron. But I do rather think his parents were married by the time he was born."

* * *

Harry was pacing nervously outside the door. He wasn't scared, that was silly; after all it was just a door. But he was nervous. Yes, very, very nervous. He kept looking back at the door, knowing that the moment he opened it some things would have to change. Things he had gotten very used to, and he didn't know if the change would be for the better. Well, he thought it would be, but he wasn't one hundred percent sure, and that was the crux of the matter…just a second, Harry was rarely one hundred percent sure about anything, and things had always had a way of working themselves out. So there was nothing to do but to just go for it and talk to her. And besides, every time he looked at the crumpled letter in his hand, looked at the black ink written in the now familiar hand, he got such a jumble of emotions burning within him that he didn't know what else to do or think. So there was nothing for it. He would stop thinking, and just act.

He opened the door and stood in the doorway, admiring for a moment how the sun lit her hair as she sat on her bed sketching on a drawing pad. She motioned him to enter the room and he did so, closing the door behind him.

"What's up?" she asked, concentrating on her work.

"When did you start drawing?" Harry said abruptly, changing what he had originally planned to say. Stupid nervousness.

"Dean taught me."

"Oh," Harry answered awkwardly. "Um…can we talk?"

Ginny stopped what she was doing and stared at him for a second. "You do realize that those are the worst words to start any conversation with, right?"

"I--" Harry cut himself off. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry, but I need to talk to you about something important."

"Also not good words. Something tells me I'm not going to like this conversation, Harry."

"I know, I know. I just--okay, pretend this is the beginning of the conversation. The stuff before was just practice."

Ginny nodded her assent, setting aside her drawing pencils and paper. "Okay, shoot."

"So, I know that we're still trying to figure out where we stand after all that's happened in the past year or so--" Harry began.

"You mean, you breaking up with me, going off on some wild goose chase with Ron and Hermione for a year while I had to stay at Hogwarts, and then returning last May to defeat Voldemort in front of the entire student body?"

It still amazed him sometimes how Ginny could speak so many words without pausing for breath.

"Er--Yeah, something like that."

"Okay then, what did you want to talk about?"

There was nothing for it. Don't think, just act.

"Ginny….I think I'm gay," Harry said. "Wait! No, that's wrong. What I mean to say is, that I like blokes. I still like women, though, definitely still like women, I just--I seem to like men…as well." Harry cocked his head and narrowed his eyes a bit in concentration, trying to figure out if what he just said had made any sense.

"Oh! Well that's--um, well--ahm…actually, I have no idea what to say," Ginny blushed. A few moments of silence passed. "How does that work, exactly? Wait, never mind, let's try this again." She sat up in what she must have thought to have been a welcoming position. "What made you, or rather _who_ made you I suppose would be the correct term, realize this?"

"Umm…Malfoy."

"Malfoy." Disbelief threaded her voice. "Draco Malfoy?"

"Yeah. I really can't explain it but--" Harry struggled to express his confusion over finding Malfoy attractive without apologizing for his newly discovered bisexuality. It would never do. He couldn't explain how he felt, what he had seen during those days in Malfoy's house, why he was suddenly attracted to the man in a way he never had been before. He liked to think it had nothing to do with gender and was entirely dependent on Malfoy himself, but then he remembered, or in some cases imagined, certain…qualities…of Malfoy's, and well, that shot his whole argument into the rubbish. Oh, right. Ginny was talking.

"You know," Ginny said thoughtfully, "now that I come to think of it, it actually makes a bit of sense."

"It…does?"

"Yeah. Huh, who'd have thought. Me supporting you liking people other than me… Huh… But Harry, I hope you don't think this means that if you cheat on me with a man, it won't really be cheating since it's a man!"

"Of course not. No, absolutely. Of course it would count. It's just, um, well--"

"It's been nearly a year that the war's been over, and we never said we were getting back together," Ginny helped him out.

"Yeah."

"And now that you've noticed Malfoy, you're not sure you want to."

"Yeah."

"So you're putting me off until you can get this liking guys in general, Malfoy in particular, thing straightened out…so to speak."

"…Yeah."

"And of course, if things go well and you and Malfoy engage in hot, kinky, cleverly adventurous sex you'll be letting me in on the details and inviting me for a threesome."

"Yeah--No! Wait a minute! What?" Harry sputtered.

Ginny burst out laughing. "I'm only half serious about the last part."

Harry found he had no response.

"So, is that it then?" she asked, picking up her drawing tools again.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Stop saying 'yeah.'"

"Oh--sorry, I'm just--kind of nervous, still."

"I noticed."

"I just haven't told anyone yet, not even Ron and Hermione, and I…Are you really okay with this? I mean, you seem to be taking this really well, amazingly well in fact, and I sort of expected…You're not angry or freaked out or--disgusted with me, are you?"

Ginny looked up at Harry, watching as he bit his lip slightly and darted his eyes about the room, avoiding her gaze.

"Harry," she waited until he looked at her before continuing. "I would hope that you've realized this by now, but I don't quite think the same way that Ron and Hermione do. I just want you to be happy, and if you being with someone else--man or woman--is what it takes for you to be happy, then I'm fine with it. Love is love. Gender is just the package it arrives in, that's all."

"That--that was very nice, Ginny," Harry said after a moment.

She smiled at him. "As I said, I'm not Ron or Hermione. Just think of me as having a fuller appreciation for all aspects of life. Or rather, sex." She turned back to her drawings and Harry made his way out into the hall, but stopped in the doorway when she called his name.

"Yea--yes?" he answered.

"When you do tell them though, make sure I'm around to witness the festivities, yeah?" she said, giving him a wink.

Harry broke into a large grin. "Yeah."

* * *

"What are you doing here?"

Harry was on the threshold of Malfoy Manor gazing at a surprised Malfoy who was standing at the door, blinking a few times more than usual.

"I actually don't know," Harry said slowly. "Can I come in? Would that be alright?"

Malfoy stepped back silently, allowing Harry inside. The blond motioned with his hand and Harry followed him through the foyer and down the long corridor until they reached the study where Harry had spent his time while ill.

As soon as the door swung behind them, Malfoy spoke. "What's going on? Did the Ministry interfere again?" Malfoy's eyes darkened even more than they already were. "Are they not going to hand over the portrait?"

"No, no they are. It's going to be hung tomorrow, actually. Right next to Dumbledore's, I made sure of that." Harry stopped himself from babbling on, taking the time instead to study the man before him. He needed to be sure that he wanted this. That it wasn't just gratitude or companionship or a simple lustful crush, but really…what he wanted. "That's not why I'm here."

"Oh?" Harry didn't continue. Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Were you going to tell me why you're here or just stare at me all day?"

"No, no, sorry--sorry--I--damn," Harry said emphatically.

"Harry, calm down," the blond said, chuckling slightly. "Now, what's going on?"

"I don't know. It's hard to explain."

Harry wandered around the room a bit, trailing his hands over the piano keys. Malfoy watched for a moment before giving a slight sigh and heading over to the table, where a decanter full of whiskey and several crystal tumblers appeared. He poured a glassful and took a large gulp, watching the amber liquid as he swirled it around. "You've changed your mind again, haven't you?" he said softly.

"What?" Harry was confused.

"It's always the same. I make all the effort, you sit there and soak it all in, and in the end, I'm still just a bloody Death Eater! Nothing I do ever makes it right!" Malfoy snarled, suddenly angry. "I do everything I can to make up for it, to try and recompense for a stupid decision I made when I was bloody sixteen years old, and still! It doesn't matter. It just doesn't matter, does it?"

Harry stared, unable to say anything. Now he was very, very confused.

"I should've known. I've should've known when you didn't answer my letter. This whole time I've been--I thought you finally saw me differently, I--alright, you know what? You're right! You've been right about me the whole time! I was a Death Eater. I was a Death Eater's son! I hated Mudbloods! I hated anything different. Because anytime I didn't my father--" he cut himself off. "It doesn't matter. It won't change your mind, just…Just leave." Malfoy slumped into the leather chair, hurriedly drinking more and more of the whiskey.

"What. The. Fuck." Harry came around to stand directly in front of Malfoy. "What the bloody fuck was that about? I come here to try and tell you something, barely get two words out, and you just flip out on me! And _why_ are you _drinking? _It's four o'clock in the afternoon!"

"I've been drinking since two, so I hardly think it matters."

Harry suddenly became more aware of Malfoy's dark eyes and careful movements.

"Since two?! Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it! If you won't talk, then I won't either!"

"What kind of an argument is that?"

"A Slytherin one!"

"We are _not_ at Hogwarts anymore," Harry ground out.

"Yeah? Tell that to your precious girl Weasley!"

"That's not the point!"

"Well then what is?"

"The point is that I'm attracted to you, damn it!"

Malfoy stared at him for a moment. "I thought you were dating Weasley's sister," came the reply.

"I'm not."

"Oh."

Silence.

"I told her earlier that I didn't want to…I was just trying to be honest--I…Didn't she say something about that when she was here, before?"

"She might've," Malfoy admitted, looking the closest to sheepish Harry thought it was possible for a Malfoy to get. "To be honest, I don't really pay all that much attention to what comes out of that girl's mouth." Harry's mouth twitched despite himself. "And if we're continuing with this honesty thing, I might as well say that the reason I wasn't paying attention is because every time I get near you all my focus seems to head your way."

Harry suddenly felt very serious. "What?"

"Oh, yeah," Malfoy said, waving his tumbler around and then glaring at it when the liquid had the nerve to slosh over the side of the glass. He swore loudly and set the glass down, sucking the alcohol from his wrist. Harry stared, transfixed. "I've fancied you like mad for ages." Malfoy stopped suddenly, a look of comprehension overcoming the two bright spots of rouge on his flushed face. "I don't think I meant to say that. Crap. Stupid whiskey."

Malfoy stood up, swaying a bit. Harry stepped closer in concern. Malfoy took a step back, or at least he tried to, but ended up backing into the armchair again. In his typical charmingly fretful manner, Harry had rushed forward in an attempt to catch the blond before he fell. The end result was that Malfoy ended up slumped in the large chair with Harry sprawled on top of him, a blush furious enough to rival Malfoy's now painted upon his face.

"Oh! God, are you ok?" Harry asked, lifting his face up a bit so he wasn't talking into Malfoy's neck. Of course, that then put him about two inches above Malfoy's face.

"I'm fine," he replied, staring thoughtfully. Harry tried not to let his blush creep even higher on his cheeks. "You always seem to bump into me, don't you? I'll start believing you're doing it on purpose if you keep it up."

"Well--I--I--" Stammering seemed to be a constant theme for him lately.

"Your eyes are really green this close."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Malfoy assented, smiling himself before looping a lazy arm around the back of Harry's head and drawing him down the short distance between them for a kiss.

It was soft at first; only a hint of pressure, as if Malfoy was scared that Harry would immediately pull away. As the kiss continued Malfoy grew bolder, swiping his tongue across Harry's bottom lip and taking advantage of the gasp that followed to explore the cavern of Harry's mouth. The brunet was a bit stunned, quite frankly. To him everything seemed to be flying past at a lightning pace, and yet, he didn't think he could stop if he tried. In fact, he did try, for just a second, and only got about half an inch away before he succumbed again to the warm pressure of Draco's lips (for he had become Draco in Harry's mind now). If Harry had ever had any doubts about whether he could make things work, so to speak, with another man, they were fast disappearing under Draco's touch.

He pulled back to look at Draco's face, a soft smile playing about his lips that only grew wider when he saw Draco smiling back at him.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Was this okay?"

"I've waited a long time for this, Harry. Trust me, we've only just begun."

Harry smiled, and allowed himself to be pulled down for another kiss.

* * *

"He looks good, doesn't he?"

Harry squinted up at Snape's portrait, ignoring the scowl that gazed down at him. They were standing in the Headmaster's office, admiring the work that had been done and double checking that the Ministry hadn't rescinded on their end of the bargain at the last moment.

"I don't know…I don't think my attraction for males can suddenly encompass Snape without my immediate self-destruction--ow! Ow!!" Harry yelped as Draco playfully pinched arm. "What was that for?"

"That, my silly Gryffindor," Draco said airily, "was for insulting my Head of House, my favorite teacher, and my very favorite godfather."

"He was your only godfather," Harry retorted.

"Your point?" he replied, before dragging Harry forward into a heady kiss. They broke apart a few seconds later.

"What was my point again?" Harry asked.

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"Oh. Good."

Harry pulled Draco in for another kiss, which Draco agreed to eagerly. They continued kissing for some moments, before a discreet cough made them look up. Dumbledore's portrait was pointing to Snape's, blue eyes twinkling merrily. Harry stifled his own laugh at the image of his former professor putting his hands over his ears and muttering potion ingredients under his breath with his eyes closed. If Harry wasn't mistaken, it sounded like the steps to brew the Draught of the Living Death.

"I think that's our cue to go."

Draco smirked. "Indeed. You've done your good deed for the day." He ignored the feigned wounded look Harry gave him. "Your place or mine?"

An entirely different twinkle made its way into Harry's eyes. "Well, I have been wanting to try out the rest of the furniture in your wing of the Manor. For scientific purposes, of course. We have to make sure that each leather chair is as comfortable as the next."

"But of course," Draco agreed graciously. "Let it never be said that Draco Malfoy was not open to experimentation."

He and Harry walked over to the fireplace, where Draco clasped a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into the fire. Harry couldn't help but grin as he was enveloped in Draco's embrace and kissed softly as they whirled through the flames. Once again he would pass through the fire, but this time, perhaps, he wouldn't get burned.

_Finis. _


End file.
